Night of the Demon
by BobH2
Summary: When a winged demon on a killing spree is linked to a militia group only Mulder and Scully can stop the death toll from rising, but this is a very different Scully from the one Mulder knows. (Contains spoilers for my story 'Olympia'.)
1. Chapter 1

SAN FERNANDO VALLEY  
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

It was after dark as Carter Johns jogged through the suburban sprawl of Canoga Park. The sharp late-autumn breezes of the valley were pleasantly bracing, cooling rather than chilling him. He was out pounding the largely empty streets this fine Thursday evening in order to clear his head. What with one thing and another, it had been a long few weeks and this was the first opportunity he had really had to cut loose in that time. Coming upon with the local high school he saw the gate was open and so ducked in to use the track on their athletic field, which appeared to be deserted.

This was the very school his children attended, and he decided it would be good to see the track as they saw it. It was while lost in such reflection that it happened. One second he was enjoying his run, and the next he was sent sprawling as something slammed into him at high speed from above. Stumbling to his feet, he staggered into the soft sand of the long jump pit. Even as he realized this, so he felt the air displacement as whatever had struck him landed softly behind him. Dazed, he turned to face his attacker. It was dark, but in the illumination provided by the streetlamps of the distant road and the security lights around the running track, he could make out its powerful, form, all color washed out by their sodium glare. He barely had time to take in any details before the creature lashed out, claws raking his throat and severing his jugular. Carter Johns slumped to his knees, blood gushing from his neck, then face forward into the sand. He did not get up. He never would again.

Five minutes later and two miles distant, Gary Negretti was driving along the main San Fernando valley highway, listening to classic rock on his car radio. After a long, frustrating day at the base he was looking forward to getting home and settling down in front of his TV with a six-pack to watch the big game. He was contemplating the Raiders' recent, woeful form, when something heavy landed on the roof of the car, causing him to swerve in surprise. As he straightened up, powerful talons stabbed through the roof, peeling it back like tinfoil. Instinctively, he threw the steering wheel as far right as he could, hoping the sudden lurch would eject his attacker from the roof.

It didn't.

Negretti took his gun from the car's glove box, swinging it upwards as he did so. He was fast, but the creature was faster. It grabbed his wrist before he could bring his gun to bear. The struggle only lasted a few seconds, but that was long enough for him to lose control of the car. Unfortunately they were on a bend. Even more unfortunately, they left the road at a point where a section of crash rail was missing, sailing out into the air. The creature took wing as they did so, soaring clear as the car crashed down the slope, totally out of control. Negretti cried out as he saw the trees at the bottom rushing towards him. Then the car smashed into them and he knew no more.

Whether he was unconscious for seconds or for hours Negretti had no way of knowing know, but as soon as he came too he grabbed a second item from the glove box, released his seat belt, then rolled out of the car, scrambling unsteadily to his feet, gun in hand.

And not a moment too soon.

The thing hit him at speed, knocking him backwards. He fired at it as it tried to press its advantage, bullets slicing through the leathern skin of one wing. It hissed in fury, and Negretti got his first good look at its face.

It was the face of a demon.

Negretti paused for a moment, then resumed firing, his bullets driving the creature back against the car until he had no bullets left. When that happened he dropped his gun, pulled the pin from the other item he'd taken from his glove box, and lobbed the grenade over the demon's head and in through the ruined roof of his car. All this before it had time to react.

The explosion was much bigger than he'd expected. It blew the car to pieces, setting fire to the trees and dry grass over a large radius. Fortunately, Negretti was far enough away and partially shielded by the creature for the blast to do no more than knock him off his feet.

Ears ringing, he looked up, expecting to see the demon's remains spread over a wide area. Instead he spotted it in the air and already a hundred yards distant, flying away. The thing was tough as hell, but it had clearly had enough. Getting to his feet, he brushed the dirt from his uniform then started up the embankment to the road where he hoped to flag down a passing car.

Despite being a self-professed devout Christian, it had been months since Gary Negretti had last set foot inside a church. He would remedy that tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

SAN FERNANDO VALLEY  
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA  
NINE HOURS LATER

"It was peeled open like a can of fish, Agent Mulder," said the local cop showing him around the crime scene. "I've never seen anything like it."

This was Detective Shona Reece, a tall, striking-looking African-American woman with short-cropped hair who reminded Mulder of the singer Grace Jones.

Mulder was examining the ruined roof of the crashed automobile, the rips and indentations in the metal making it quite clear that it had been torn open by someone or something rather than by mechanical means.

"And you say the driver survived?"

"Yes, though he was pretty banged up. Claims he was attacked by some sort of winged demon."

"A winged demon," said Mulder, almost smacking his lips at the thought, just as he had when he had been alerted to the case. "Most of the major religions and peoples of the world have myths about winged demons of various sorts, from the very earliest civilisations onward. I wonder which type we're dealing with here?"

"What, you think it really was a demon that did this?"

She frowned and Mulder sighed inwardly at her reaction.

"At this point I'm keeping an open mind and...hello, what's this? A bloody fingerprint?"

"Yeah, we had it photographed but couldn't find a match. We thought maybe whoever or whatever it was had cut themselves tearing into the roof, but it turned out to be the first victim's blood."

"Interesting," said Mulder. There was no reason for a demon not to have fingerprints, but he was surprised to discover this one did. It wasn't something he had encountered in any of the literature on the subject. "Can I speak to the driver?"

"He's agreed to swing by the office later and answer your questions."

"Good. I assume you took a ton of crime scene photos; can I get copies?"

"Of course."

"Excellent," said Mulder, starting back off up the embankment to where his car was parked on the road above. "Now let's get to the morgue and find out what my partner has discovered about the other victim."

The local morgue was indistinguishable from a dozen others Mulder had visited, all of them chilly, brightly lit, and smelling of strong disinfectant. Scully seemed pleased to see him, managing a small smile when he and Detective Reece joined her there.

"What've we got, Scully?" asked Mulder, nodding at the body on the slab before her.

"The victim is Carter Johns, a 38 year old caucasian male. Death was due to exsanguination, the result of a severed jugular caused by severe lacerations of the throat. After close examination of the lacerations, I'm of the opinion they were made by some sort of large animal."

"Witnesses reported seeing a creature the size of a man launch itself into the air from the school sports field where the body was found and fly off to the east," said Mulder.

"Those witnesses were all in moving vehicles on the road outside the school and it was after dark," said Scully. "None of them can be sure what they saw."

"Nevertheless, a second attack occurred soon afterwards a few miles away from the first, and this time the victim survived."

"Ah yes, the 'winged demon' you dashed off to find," said Scully, smiling. "Any luck with that?"

"Not as yet, no. Is there any link between the two victims?"

"Not that we've been able to find," said Detective Reece. "Gary Negretti claims never to have met Carter Johns, and there's nothing in their backgrounds to suggest a connection. Johns was an elementary school teacher, and Negretti is in the air force."

"That explains the gun," said Mulder, "but he wouldn't have been authorized to carry a grenade."

As he was saying this the doors swung open and two men in military uniform entered, one of them a familiar figure.

"No he wasn't, Agent Mulder," he said, "and though it saved his life he _will_ face a charge over that."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," said Detective Reece, under her breath. She said it quietly, but it was still loud enough for Scully standing next to her to hear. She frowned at the other woman.

"Major Meacham," said Mulder, "it's good to see you again!"

They shook hands, and Meacham turned to the other officer.

"This is my superior, Colonel Negretti," he said. "He works at Edwards but lives off base. He's agreed to answer any questions you have."

"So it really was a demon that attacked you?"

"I know how crazy that sounds, but I don't know how else to describe it. It was the size and shape of a man but had huge, bat-like wings growing out of its back, and its toes and fingers that ended in pretty vicious claws."

"Was it wearing anything?" asked Scully.

"'Wearing anything'? C'mon Scully, it's a demon! Of course it wasn't wearing anything."

"Actually, Agent Mulder, it was," said Negretti. "It was wearing blue jeans."

"Blue jeans?"

"Yeah, Wrangler stone-washed 501s. I'd just bought a pair for my teenage daughter, so I recognized them immediately."

Seeing the look on Mulder's face, it took all Scully's willpower not to burst out laughing.

"Was it wearing anything else?" she asked.

"No shirt, no shoes, just blue jeans. Oh, and they had a Grateful Dead patch sewn on the right thigh."

"The Grateful Dead...," muttered Mulder, shaking his head. He turned to Meacham.

"Do you think this might have something to do with Olympia?" he asked, referring to the case Meacham had assisted them on six months earlier.

"I don't see how? Do you have reason to believe this was something more than a random attack?"

"No, not really," said Mulder, "I've just always had a hard time believing in coincidences."

"Could you run us through the attack on you from the beginning, Colonel," asked Scully, "just so we can be sure we haven't missed anything?"

He did so and they listened intently, interjecting the occasional question.

"OK, well thank you for your time," said Mulder when he was done, "I'm sure we'll be in touch if we need anything else from you."

When they had left, Scully turned to Detective Reece.

"Did I detect some sort of negative vibe between you and the Colonel?"

"Very perceptive, Agent Scully," she said. "He used to be my commanding officer."

"You were in the military? What happened?"

"I'd prefer not to talk about it, if you don't mind."

"I understand."

Mulder gave his partner a quizzical look, indicating he would have pressed Detective Reece further on this, but he accepted her decision not to and did not push the matter.

"Right, well I guess we'd better interview Carter Johns' family now," he said.

It was mid evening by the time they got back to their motel, Johns' family having been unable to provide them with any reason why he might have been targeted.

"It's starting to look like these really are unconnected, random attacks," said Mulder, as Scully brought their car to a halt in the motel lot, "which means we have nowhere to go from here. All we can do is wait for another attack."

"I know," said Scully, as they climbed out of the vehicle, "but it's not something I want to think about right now. We had an early start and I'm beat. I'll see you in the morning, Mulder."

"Alright. G'night, Scully, don't let the bed bugs bite."

The motel they were staying at was a cut above those the FBI usually found for them, and came complete with a well kept swimming pool and some fairly decent poolside furniture. When Mulder woke and headed out for breakfast the following morning he was surprised to find Scully already sitting at one of the tables, a pot of coffee before her, poring over the notes they had taken the previous day and the crime scene photos. She was also smoking a cigarette.

As he approached her, Scully took a drag on her cigarette and looked up. She ran her eyes over him appreciatively, then grinned.

"Nice!" she said, exhaling a long stream of smoke.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Scully?" he asked, frowning at his partner's unusual behaviour.

"Quite a bit, actually," she said, "but I think you'd better take a seat first."

Mulder did so, feeling uncomfortable at the way she was looking him up and down.

"God, you really are identical to him!" she said. "I mean yes, I knew you would be, but knowing something and experiencing it are two different things."

"Him? Him who? Scully, what are you talking about?"

"That's just it, Fox. I'm not Scully - at least not _your_ Scully. I'm not her at all."


	3. Chapter 3

SHADY PINES MOTEL  
SAN FERNANDO VALLEY

Mulder stared at his partner, wondering if this was some sort of joke.

"You want to run that by me again?" he said.

"Your space shuttle orbiter Olympia," she said. "Six months ago it ended up on my Earth, and our space plane ended up on yours."

"You're saying you're the Scully of that other Earth?"

"Major Dana Scully. Pleased to meet you, Fox."

She held out her hand. He shook it tentatively.

"Mulder," he mumbled, still processing this revelation, still not entirely convinced this wasn't his Scully pulling his leg, "everyone calls me Mulder."

"Huh. Interesting." She took another drag on her cigarette.

"So if you're over here does that mean my Scully is over there?"

"No, it doesn't. We have no idea what caused the two craft to swap places and no way of replicating the phenomenon, but we have recently discovered how to project a person's mind into the body of their counterpart in another universe while the counterpart is asleep."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, this is your Scully's body but my mind is currently in the driving seat. While I'm in charge her mind is remains sleeping. When I leave she'll wake up and reassert control."

"The many worlds theory posits an infinite number of parallel universes. How were you able to home in on this particular one?"

"By comparing material from your universe to material in our own, we discovered that on the molecular level each has a different 'quantum signature', an address if you like. Using that signature, priming the drug used in the process with such material, we're able to create a quantum link between a person in our universe and their counterpart in yours."

"So why are you here now? Are you just testing the process?"

"No, I was sent here for a reason. This 'demon' you're looking for," she said, indicating the notes on the table, "is also from my Earth. His name is William Dayton. I'm here to help you stop him."

"So this William Dayton is not really a demon?"

"No - if such things even actually exist - he's not."

"Then who or what is he, and why is he killing random people here?"

"The killings aren't random."

"But there's no link between the victims."

"Yes there is - just not on this Earth. On mine, Carter Johns and Gary Negretti are colleagues. Look, I probably ought to start at the beginning."

"Good idea."

"William Dayton was born in 1950, so he's now in his late forties. Like Carter Johns and Gary Negretti, he was with the air force and attached to Edwards Air Force base, but where they're big-wigs he's a military scientist. For reasons we don't yet fully understand, the process that brought us both here works better on some people than on others. From the beginning, the tests that were conducted identified him as the best candidate, followed by me, which is why he was the first to be projected into the mind of his counterpart over here. He woke to find himself in a dormitory with a dozen other men and soon ascertained they were all part of some sort of anti-government militia group."

"And the part about being a demon?"

"I'm getting to that. From the moment he took possession of his other self's body he could tell there was something 'off' about it. As he described it to us on his return, it felt almost as if it had extra muscles his own body didn't. When he was alone, he experimented, trying to figure out how to 'flex' these 'muscles', and he succeeded. To his astonishment, bat-like wing sprouted from his back, talons from his fingers and toes, and his face morphed into that of the 'demon' described in these reports."

"Did he have an explanation for this transformation?"

"Yes. He had the scientific knowledge to run a few tests which confirmed what he suspected: alien DNA. In this world, before his birth, William Dayton's own DNA had been spliced with DNA recovered from an extraterrestrial." Mulder felt his pulse quicken at this revelation.

"This was totally unexpected, of course, but of no direct relevance to us. Our Dayton's initial trip had only been intended as a short reconnaissance mission to test the process. Once it had proven successful and he'd reported in, he was sent back on an actual mission."

"Which was?"

"To discover what had happened to the crew of our space plane. He learned from your newspapers they had been killed in a plane crash and he was distraught."

"Why?"

"The flight attendant on the space plane, Jill Reilly, was his fiancee. He was convinced it was no accident, that they had been killed deliberately?"

"Why would he think that?"

"Because that's what happened to their counterparts - the crew of Olympia - on our Earth. I'm not proud of the fact, but those that make the decisions in such matters decided the very fact of their existence made them too dangerous to be allowed out into our world."

"I'm not entirely sure that's not what also happened to your people over here, too," admitted Mulder.

"You think the plane crash was staged?"

"I do."

"Dayton obviously agreed with you. He knew who was responsible for deciding the fate of your crew in our world, and has clearly decided their counterparts were likely to have been responsible for deciding the fate of our crew in yours."

"Why was he allowed back over?"

"He wasn't, but once the link has been made between someone and their counterpart that link is permanent. Will yourself into the right, trance-like state and possessing your counterpart while they sleep is easy. He asked for - and received - compassionate leave, so long as he reported in regularly."

"I'm guessing he never reported in and you have no idea where he is."

"Correct. We began to worry about what he might be up to over here, so I was sent to investigate. These crime reports have confirmed our worst fears."

She took a long drag on her cigarette, and Mulder regarded her thoughtfully.

"OK," he said, "you've convinced me you're not my Scully pulling an elaborate prank on me, but why should I work with you? You're essentially an agent of a foreign power."

"A foreign power that's the United States of America."

"Yeah, but not _this_ United States of America."

She sighed.

"Look, we both want to put this man away, you because of the homicide and me because we might want to one day open formal relations between our Earths and this makes a terrible first impression."

"I could have you taken into custody."

"If you did I'd just slip back to my own body leaving your Dana Scully somewhat confused and anything you might say about me looking like something you'd made up."

"Then I guess we're working together," said Mulder, smiling, "I just needed to know where the limits were."

"Good. I'm still figuring them out myself, and trying to get used to being in another universe, which is actually more mind-blowing than I anticipated. Even the small things catch you out," she said, tapping her cigarette pack. "When I got these from the motel vending machine I wasn't expecting to be surprised by them, but I was. On this Earth they're 'Morley', but on mine the name on that pack would be 'Marlboro'."

"That's as may be, but since my Scully doesn't smoke you really shouldn't be abusing her lungs like that."

"Oh lighten up, Mulder! I'm not going to be here long enough to do any harm," she said, rising from the table and taking a final drag before carefully stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Good to hear," said Mulder as he too got to his feet.

"Now that's settled, I should give you these," she said, grinning and handing him a newspaper and a magazine. "You ordered them but they were left outside my door by mistake."

"Ah," said Mulder, taking the publications from her, and trying not to look at the large-breasted woman on the magazine cover.

"There's some kinky stuff in there, Mulder, I approve."

"Thank you. A man named Clyde Bruckman, who could somehow intuit how anyone was going to die, once told me that in my case it would be via auto-erotic asphyxiation, but he was joking. At least I hope he was."

"A shame your Scully isn't as open minded." "What do you mean?"

"Apart from a vibrator, there were no sex toys in her baggage at all. I wouldn't dream of travelling anywhere without at least a leather paddle and my strap-on. My counterpart is a lot more vanilla than I was expecting. I doubt she ever uses her handcuffs recreationally, and she's probably rigidly heterosexual, too."

"I'm guessing you're not."

"God, no. Why limit your options? If I had I'd've missed out on great sex with some wonderful women. I hope your Scully is at least getting laid regularly."

"I'm not going to discuss my partner's sex life with you."

"So she does have one then? Good."

Smiling, she sidled up to Mulder and slid her arms around his waist.

"And what about you, hotshot? If you want to properly welcome a visitor from another universe to your world I can think of some very enjoyable things we could do together to help forge closer interdimensional relations."

"I'd prefer it if we keep things strictly professional between us," said Mulder, gently disengaging from her arms.

"A pity. I was looking forward to seeing how your body compared with Captain Mulder's.

"The two of you have had sex?"

"Yes. Why so shocked?"

"But if he's a captain then he's your subordinate."

"So? I've had sex with several of my subordinates, and they've all been willing partners, *very* willing in the case of Lieutenant Krycek. Now there's a woman who loves being on the receiving end of a riding crop!"

"Alex Krycek is female on your Earth?"

"Lieutenant Alexandra Natalia Krycek. So she's a man here? Ooh how very interesting. I really want to meet him now."

"Trust me on this - you really don't. In this world he was responsible for the death of your sister."

"Melissa? But...she died when we were children."

She sighed heavily.

"I'm not in Kansas any more, am I?" she sighed.

"No Dorothy, you're really not."

"When did she die?"

"Three years ago."

"Damn. So I just missed meeting her as an adult?"

"I'm not sure that would've been a good thing."

"I am. I'd have given anything to spend some time with her."

A car pulled up in the parking lot. Detective Reece got out.

"Shona Reece," Mulder told Scully quietly, "the detective from the local police we're working with."

"' Morning," said Detective Reece walking over to them, "is that fresh coffee I spy?"

"Help yourself," said Scully.

"We think we may have a lead on our killer," said Mulder, "we received a call from an anonymous source claiming his name is William Dayton."

"An anonymous source, huh? Riiight. I wonder how they knew where to contact you?"

"Who can say? Apparently, Dayton is part of some local militia group."

"Did your 'informant' say which one?" asked Reece, sipping her coffee.

"Marion Militia," said Scully, "in a compound at the Reynard Farm."

"Huh, then you might be in luck. The BATF has a man undercover with them who regularly checks in with me. I'm meeting with him when he travels in from the farm later today to pick up supplies. Did you get any explanation for the whole 'flying demon' thing?"

"No, but it's our only lead. Do you think he could get us into the group?"

"What are you thinking, Mulder?" asked Scully.

"If we pose as a couple sympathetic to the group's aims and he vouches for us, we should be able to get close to Dayton. Would he be prepared to do that for us, Detective Reece?"

"He might," she said, thoughtfully, "but you'd need to be ready to go with him today. He won't be leaving the farm again for another week."

"Tell you what, Mulder," said Scully. "You head down to the nearest mall and get us suitable clothing, while I stay here and work out the details with Detective Reece."

The two women exchanged a look, and Reece nodded.

"Yes," she said, "that makes sense."

"Right, then I guess I'll see you ladies when I return."

Mulder headed off, not quite able to shake the feeling he had just been dismissed.


	4. Chapter 4

SHADY PINES MOTEL  
SAN FERNANDO VALLEY  
TWO HOURS LATER

Returning from the mall, Mulder had just begun turning into the motel parking area when he suddenly stopped the car, transfixed by what he was seeing. In the doorway of her upper level room, Scully and Detective Reece were locked in an embrace, kissing passionately. When they broke their clinch and Reece turned away, Scully gave the other woman's rear a slap, grinning broadly. Mulder waited until they were descending the stairs together before continuing into the parking lot.

"Check flannel shirts?" said Scully, a little later when he showed her his haul.

"Also jeans, boots, hunting jackets, and baseball caps," said Mulder. "You wanted suitable clothing and this stuff fits the bill. Got us a couple of hunting rifles, too."

He and Scully were sitting at a poolside table, but Detective Reece was standing. "Why don't you sit down, Detective," he said, "take the weight off your feet?"

"I, ah, I prefer to stand, thanks," she replied, looking sheepish.

Mulder glanced across at Scully, who was smirking.

"Actually, I think I'd better be going," said Reece, "I'll get things set up and let you know where and when to meet my guy."

With that, she turned and made her way to her car. Mulder watched with interest as she very carefully lowered herself into the driver's seat.

"So," he said, turning to Scully as she drove off, "you and Detective Reece?"

"Yep. Her interest was obvious from the looks she was giving me, and I'm not one to let an opportunity like that pass me by. She must've been giving the same looks to your Scully, who either didn't notice or - more likely - ignored them, the silly girl."

"I didn't notice them."

"Of course you didn't," she said, " you're a man. Shona told me about something called 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' and how she was dishonorobly discharged from the military after being found in bed with another woman. I knew we were ahead of you technologically, but I hadn't realized you were so backward over here socially as well."

"How backward are we?"

"My United States was the first of the Western powers after the Scandinavians to allow homosexuals to serve openly. Yours looks like it will be the last. And God only knows when you'll legalize gay marriage."

"Yeah," said Mulder, ruefully, "I can't see that happening in my lifetime. Still, my world is ahead of yours in one respect."

"What's that?"

"You still have a Soviet Union and we don't. Ours broke up earlier this decade. There are some things I really want to know about your Earth, if you don't mind."

"There are some things I can tell you, and some I can't. I've been ordered to keep cultural contamination to a minimum."

"I understand. So, you investigate X-files, right?"

"Yes."

"Under the auspices of military intelligence?"

"Correct."

"Interesting. On this Earth, the X-files come under the FBI."

"J. Edna Hoover's people, yes."

"J. _Edna_ Hoover?!"

She laughed.

"Got you."

"That you did," Mulder chuckled. "So. Aliens."

"What about them?"

"We recovered the photographs and the report about the black monolith on the moon from your space plane."

"Ah. Yes, well, since you already know so much... Sometime in the last half a million years that monolith was buried on the moon. It was detected by us during a lunar survey and excavated. What we didn't realize was that it was designed to send out a radio signal when struck by the rays of the sun."

"Which it couldn't do until it was excavated. Clever. Whoever planted it there wanted to know when you were sufficiently advanced to have developed space travel. Do you know where the signal was sent?"

"Yes...and I can't tell you, because for all I know there's an identical monolith buried on your moon. What I can say is that we have a mission, a space odyssey, planned for the year 2001 to trace the signal to its source."

"What about other, more recent alien visitations?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't comment on that at all."

"A pity. Any idea what we can expect when we confront William Dayton?"

"If we're lucky, my William Dayton will no longer be in the driving seat."

"Why would he have left before killing the others on his list?"

"Because unlike me he doesn't have a support team back home."

"I don't understand."

"It's very simple, really. While our minds are possessing bodies over here our actual bodies are helpless. To an outsider we would appear comatose. I have a team monitoring mine, turning it as necessary, feeding it, etcetera. If I had to, I could stay here for weeks. So far as we're aware, Dayton is on his own. If so, he can't afford to leave his body unattended for more than a few hours at a time."

"I guess we'll find out which William Dayton we have to deal with very shortly, then," said Mulder.


	5. Chapter 5

THE REYNARD FARM  
4.30 PM

Rich Jackson, gunned the motor of the ancient VW Beetle, urging it on through the choking dust thrown up by its passage over the bumpy dirt track leading to their destination.

"C'mon, you Nazi piece of crap," he said through gritted teeth, "just get us over this rise and we're there, I promise."

In the rear, Mulder and Scully exchanged a quick, worried glance. When Detective Reece had set up their meeting with Jackson neither had known what to expect, but a battered old car and a guy who looked like a hippie certainly had not been it.

"What can you tell us about William Dayton?" asked Mulder, shouting to be heard over the straining motor.

"Billy's a sweet enough guy," Jackson shouted back, "but damaged, like quite a few of those in the compound. What you have to understand is that while there are disciplined, well-trained militias in the Pacific northwest and elsewhere, these guys are mostly misfits and wannabes. They've got hunting rifles and a handful of handguns, but nothing worth worrying about. The only reason I was even assigned here undercover is because of how freaked out everyone was after Oklahoma City. Of course, the first time a foreigner does something like that we'll forget all about domestic terrorists and focus our attention on them. We always see brown people as a bigger threat."

"You might be right," said Mulder, "but let's get back to Dayton."

"Oh, right. Well Billy's convinced he escaped from some sort of government facility thirty years ago when he was a kid. Says they were experimenting on other kids there, too. 'Course, he also claims that he escaped by growing a pair of wings, which were reabsorbed into his body when he got dog-tired, landed, and fell asleep. Says that he's never been able to remember how he grew them, or how to do so again."

Mulder and Scully exchanged another glance. This was their man alright.

"Billy's convinced the government has been searching for him ever since," Jackson continued, "so he stays off the grid entirely - no credit cards, driver's license, or even social security number. Tell you the truth, I've always fell kinda sorry for the guy, even gave him my spare pair of jeans a while back."

"Did they have a Grateful Dead patch sewn on them?" asked Scully.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Oh, just a wild guess."

They had finally reached the top of the rise, so Jackson stopped the car and stepped out, leaving the motor running. There was a sudden strong gust, and it caught his shoulder-length brown hair, whipping it around his face. From their position in the rear of the vehicle, as the dust cleared, Mulder and Scully caught their first sight of the compound in the valley below. Absently playing with one end of his 'Zapata' moustache, Jackson regarded it thoughtfully.

"There it is," he said, "the old Reynard farm. Now surrounded by razor wire and home to the Marion Militia. Orson Reynard is in charge due to owning the farm and surrounding land. It's certainly not because of any leadership skills he's ever demonstrated."

The farm looked to be a reasonable size, and Mulder could see tiny figures patrolling the fields outside the compound. From this distance, it reminded him of the toy farm that had been part of the model train layout he and his Dad had built many years earlier.

"OK, time to rock'n'roll!" said Jackson.

Climbing back into the VW, Jackson released the hand-brake and set off down the long, gentle slope leading to the farm. It was time for Mulder and Scully to join the Marion Militia.

Despite arriving with Jackson, people eyed them suspiciously when he pulled up in front of the farmhouse. Mulder knew he had phoned ahead so they were certainly expected.

"Frank and Darlene Cooper," Jackson announced, after they had exited the VW, "good people and god-fearin' gun owners who got no more love for the government than we do."

An attractive young woman in her mid-twenties walked up and looked them over, nodding approvingly.

"Name's Jenna Cole," she said. "You folks been married long?"

"Barely a month," said Scully, sliding an arm around Mulder's waist, "so we're basically still on our honeymoon and can't keep our hands off each other."

She smiled up at Mulder, giving him an adoring look. Having no choice but had to play along, he forced out a grin.

"I mean, what woman wouldn't want to squeeze that cute little tush?" she added, patting his rear.

"I have to admit...it is mighty fine," said Jenna, managing a smile. "Rich will show you to the dormitory block. When you're settled in I'll get you on the chores roster."

She smiled at Jackson, then headed off.

"How long have you two been sleeping together?" Scully asked Jackson.

"What makes you think that we have?"

"Oh, she knows you have," said Mulder. "She's very good at picking up on that kind of thing, trust me."

"Right, well then: the dormitory block," he said, avoiding the question. "With any luck that's where we'll find Billy."

Constructed from cinder blocks and with a rusting, corrugated iron roof, the dormitory block was clearly a late addition to the farm and, Mulder presumed, had probably once held migrant workers. Shabby as it was outside, it was relatively clean, if spartan, inside. Sitting on one of the bunks was a thin, middle-aged man with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Back to the camo, eh Billy?" said Jackson, as the trio approached him.

The man looked up, then back down at his fatigues.

"Jeans got messed up," he said, hands trembling. "Who's this?"

"Frank and Darlene Cooper. Good people who got no more love for the government than we do."

"Ain't about lovin' or not lovin'," said Dayton. "It's about gettin' them to leave you alone."

It was obvious to Mulder that his William Dayton was currently in charge, which was a relief. Now he needed to win his trust enough to get a blood sample.

"Is the government harassing you, Mr Dayton?" asked Scully.

"Spent years hidin' from them," he said, staring at the floor, "but two nights ago they found me, used mind control and took me over in my sleep. Been afraid to sleep since then, but it's gettin' hard to stay awake."

"How do you know the government used mind control on you, Billy?" asked Jackson, using a soothing voice.

Dayton reached under the bed and pulled out the jeans with the Grateful Dead patch. They were covered in dried blood.

"Woke up in the wrong bed," he said, "and the jeans looked like this. Only explanation is they took over my body while I was sleepin'...made me do somethin' terrible."

"Video's about to start, RJ," said a voice from the doorway.

"OK, Tim, we'll be right there."

"Video?" said Mulder.

"New militia movement documentary on Ruby Ridge and Waco," said Jackson. "Our copy arrived this morning. Everybody's been eager to watch it."

"We'd all better get in there," said Dayton, pulling himself together. "Reynard will throw a temper tantrum if any of us miss the show."

Mulder would have preferred to have continued with Dayton, but this did not look like something that could be avoided. Sighing, he fell in behind the others as they made their way from the dormitory, through the gathering dusk outside, and across to the farmhouse.

There were twenty or so people in military fatigues clustered around the small screen in the farmhouse lounge. This was pretty much everyone in the isolated compound save for those on perimeter guard duty.

Dayton took up position in a corner of the room, while Mulder and Jackson found themselves standing next to a shelf holding books and videotapes, which Mulder scanned with interest.

"The usual stuff, I see," he whispered to the other man. "and...hullo what's this? Copies of that old Disney TV series 'The Swamp Fox'. Ah, that explains the group's name. I should've made the connection earlier."

"Yeah, you should," chuckled Jackson.

"Francis Marion," said Mulder, "of course. Leslie Nielsen starred as Marion in 'The Swamp Fox'. As a Canadian he was tickled at being the star of the only Disney TV show ever to be banned in Canada."

"Huh, I never knew that," said Jackson. "Mel Gibson's currently working on a movie based on Marion's exploits, from what I hear."

"To many he was a hero of the Revolutionary War and a great leader of men, but there are those who claim he was a racist who hunted Cherokee for sport and who beat and raped the slaves on his plantation. Which is true, do you suppose?"

"I don't know."

"It's quite possible both are," said Mulder, "that he was both a great hero *and* a brutal racist. We have a tendency to paint our heroes as being purer than pure and our villains as darker than dark, but reality is much more complicated. Sometimes good men do bad things and bad men do good things. Human beings are messy like that, alas. Plus, he was a man of his time."

"OK, quiet please everyone," said Reynard, starting the tape. This was Mulder's first look at the militia's head and he was not impressed. Short, rotund, and bumptious, Reynard seemed more like an officious bank clerk than a leader of men. Mulder cast his eyes around the room, far more interested in watching everyone's reactions than he was in the documentary itself, which contained nothing he hadn't seen before.

"Can you believe this shit?" said Orson Reynard, shaking his head as the images unfolded.

Scully sidled up behind Mulder and gave his butt a playful squeeze.

"Not here!" he said, removing her hand.

"Aw, you're no fun."

"Where've you been?"

"Talking with the militia women. Reynard sees himself as an alpha male, so the little man has been less than pleased at the way Jackson here has gradually worked his way through the group's unattached female members, bedding every woman in turn yet managing to remain on friendly terms with all of them."

Mulder raised his eyebrows at this. That definitely _wasn't_ standard operating procedure for someone undercover.

"He was particularly unhappy when Jackson and Jenna Cole became an item," continued Scully, "since she's easily the best-looking woman here. When she joined, Reynard expected her to want to cosy up to him as the leader, but she had other ideas. She once cruelly described him as 'a fat little bald guy with a 1970s porno moustache and a Napoleon complex'."

"I can see that," said Mulder. "It would be the starting point for my psychological profile of the man."

As he said this so the sound of gunfire erupted outside the building. Everyone immediately leapt to their feet, reaching for the firearms that were never more that a couple of feet from their hands, but they were too late. Glass was shattered by projectiles coming in through the windows, thrown by shadowy figures. Small but loud bangs followed as the stun grenades detonated, the blinding flash and concussive wave resulting in most in the room falling to the floor.

His head ringing as he lay there, Mulder was still able to hear the sound of the helicoptor the shock troops had abseiled from as it descended, to see it through the doorway as it landed: a black stealth 'coptor. A tall, thin man in a suit climbed out, his deeply lined features illuminated by the flame from his lighter as he lit a cigarette. Mulder recognized him immediately.

It was their nemesis, the person he called 'Cancer Man'.


	6. Chapter 6

The flash produced by a stun grenade blinds for approximately five seconds, while the loud blast causes temporary loss of hearing, and also disturbs the fluid in the ear, resulting in loss of balance. If you're unlucky, the concussive blast of the detonation can still injure, and the heat created can ignite flammable materials such as fuel. Fortunately neither happened here, but everyone was disabled long enough for the shock troops to begin disarming and cuffing them with plastic ties.

Cancer Man spotted Mulder, and made his way over to him. As he did so, Reynard grabbed his leg.

"'m Orson Reynar'..." he slurred. "You come t'take thuh...guns?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We couldn't care less about your guns," said Cancer Man, staring at the other man in disgust before shaking him off.

One of the troopers turned Mulder over and took out a plastic tie.

"No need to cuff Agent Mulder," said Cancer Man, "or Agents Scully and Jackson here."

"Yes, sir," said the trooper, moving onto another fallen militia man.

Mulder climbed unsteadily to his feet, as did Scully and Jackson.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"A fingerprint enquiry by a Detective Reece set alarm bells ringing. That fingerprint was on record as belonging to a dangerous individual, one William Dayton, who had absconded from a secure institution thirty years earlier. I got to Detective Reece as quickly as I could and persuaded her to tell me where he might be found. Which one is he by the way?"

Mulder glanced over to the corner where Dayton had been standing. He was now on the floor, and appeared to be either unconscious or asleep.

"Oh no," said Mulder, starting forward before being restrained by a trooper, "we have to wake him. We have to wake him NOW!"

"He appears to be waking by himself," said Cancer Man, not understanding the danger.

Dayton had opened his eyes and was struggling to his feet, but the look in those eyes and his body language were not those of the man Mulder had met earlier. Then Dayton caught sight of Cancer Man and his eyes went wide.

"You!" he said, launching himself across the room at the other man. Talons sprouted from his hands and feet as he did so, leathery wings unfolded from his back, and his features took on demonic form. Before anyone had time to react, he had landed behind Cancer Man, grabbed him, and was holding those razor-sharp talons to his throat.

"The Director himself," he snarled. "I thought you'd be the hardest one to find."

"'Director'? I don't..."

"Shut up! People like you think they're untouchable, but it's time you finally paid for your many crimes."

He pulled his arm back, ready to slash his captive's throat. As he did so, a single shot rang out, and a small round hole appeared in the center of his forehead. A look of surprise crossed Dayton's face, then he toppled backwards, dead.

Mulder turned to locate the source of the shot. Behind him stood Scully, her gun held in both hands, still pointed at Dayton.

"A nice shot, Agent Scully," said Cancer Man. "I had hoped to take Dayton alive, but under the circumstances..."

He walked over to her and stared at her long and hard.

"Is there something different about you?" he said.

"Agent Scully is the same conscientious FBI agent she's always been," said Mulder, "and she just saved your life."

"Indeed. Thank you, Agent Scully."

Turning, he indicated the body.

"Get this bagged and loaded onto the helicopter," he ordered his men.

Within seconds they had zipped Dayton's body into a body bag and had begun carrying several crates into the farmhouse.

"You can't cover this up like you usually do," said Mulder, "there are almost two dozen people here who saw Dayton transform into that creature."

"And what creature would that be, Agent Mulder? All that's in that bag is the perfectly normal body of a dangerous psychopath."

"So that's the line you're taking? Walter Dayton was a human-alien hybrid, someone who had had alien DNA spliced into his own before his birth. And I know which alien DNA was used. In May 1947, while working for the OSS in Berlin, Arthur Dales encountered a lone extraterrestrial that had crash landed on Earth centuries earlier. The description in his report exactly matches that of the creature we encountered. He was told its body was totally consumed by fire, leaving only ashes, but I'm guessing that was a lie."

"The OSS? In 1947? The OSS had already been disbanded by then, Agent Mulder."

"Right, and Watson and Crick didn't discover the structure of DNA until 1953 after drawing heavily on - some claim stealing - the work done by Rosalind Franklin. Yet William Dayton was born in 1950. Obviously, that knowledge was available in certain quarters long before 1953. As I've been learning since I got involved with the X-files, when the public or the larger scientific community believes something to have happened often bears little relation to the truth."

"A fanciful theory. Now I have to ensure that William Dayton's remains are properly disposed of. My men will escort you out."

Mulder, Scully, and Jackson were led out to the latter's VW, then directed to the edge of the property. As the car took off along the dusty road leading away from the compound, Jackson finally spoke.

"What the fuck was that thing?"

"Something that doesn't officially exist," said Mulder, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "If you tell anyone what you saw here today you won't be believed and it may harm your career. All we can hope is that the Marion Militia aren't too frightened to speak out. If they go to the press en masse..."

"""""

SHADY PINES MOTEL  
SAN FERNANDO VALLEY  
TWO HOURS LATER

"I don't believe it!" said Scully, eyes wide as she watched the images on the motel room TV.

Behind the 'Breaking News' strapline, footage from the militia compound showed the buildings ablaze.

"They're claiming the Marions blew themselves up, possibly in some sort of mass suicide, but Rich Jackson said they only had hunting rifles and a few handguns. Would this 'Cancer Man' of yours really have had them all killed to keep a secret from getting out?"

"Welcome to my world," said Mulder. "I guess we now know what was in those crates. At least Orson Reynard got his wish."

"How so?"

"He claimed the only way they'd take his gun from him was when they removed it from his cold, dead fingers."

Scully lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and regarded Mulder thoughtfully.

"So who exactly is this Cancer Man in your world?" she asked.

"I have no idea what his real name is, but he's part of a shadowy group of powerful men determined to keep the existence of extraterrestrials a secret from the general public. He's shown he's prepared to do whatever it takes to preserve that secret, and he appears to have access to an almost unlimited black budget to fund his efforts. William Dayton recognised him, called him 'Director', so he obviously has a counterpart on your Earth who's probably also an evil son of a bitch. Have you ever encountered him?"

"Not directly, no, and until Dayton identified your guy I had no idea what he looked like."

"So who is he over there?"

She took another long drag on her cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke at the ceiling before replying.

"Despite being assigned to the X-files, I'm regular military intelligence. But you hear rumors about other branches, black branches outside the chain of command whose activities are not subject to any sort of congressional oversight. One of those, one of the most secretive and most powerful, is rumored to be headed by someone known only as the Director."

"And he doesn't know about your operation, the one that brought you here?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way. Before you go, there's something I need to know. Did you kill Dayton because he was about to slash Cancer Man's throat, or was that always your mission?"

"Now that your Dayton is dead mine can no longer visit your world. I ended his killing spree the only way it could be ended."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It's the only answer I have for you, Mulder."

"I see. Well, it's been interesting working with you, Major, but your job here is done so it's time you let my Scully take back the reins."

"Yes, but not just yet. There's something I need to do in Washington before I go..."

"""""

SCULLY'S APARTMENT,  
WASHINGTON DC.

Dana Scully opened her eyes, looked up Mulder from the armchair she was sitting in, then stared about her in confusion.

"This is my apartment," she said, "but how...? We were in California and..*sniff*...has someone been smoking in here?"

Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders.

"It's a long story, Dana," he said, "and the first thing you need to know is that two days have passed since you fell asleep in that motel..."

He then told her the story, all of it. When he had finished he slid a tape into the VCR.

"She wanted to leave you a personal message," he said, "so she recorded this."

He turned the machine on and Scully's face appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Dana," she said. "I'm sure it must be as weird for you watching this as it is for me to realise you'll be doing so with the eyes I'm currently looking out of."

Mulder paused the tape.

"That's the point where I left the room," he said. "What follows is personal and for your eyes only."

He handed her the remote, squeezed her shoulder, then left the room. Scully stared at the frozen image on the screen, marvelling at the idea that this was her 'possessed' by someone who was an alternate version of herself. Of all the many things working on the X-files had brought her way this might be the strangest. She pressed 'play'.

"It's possible a Detective Shona Reece might show up at your door one day," said the other Scully, as the tape resumed playing. "We had a great time together and I'm afraid I told her she should look me up if ever she was in DC. Sex with her was a lot of fun. If you loosen up and give her a chance it could be great for you, too. I'm bi and we're essentially the same person so you could have a good time with her if you allow yourself to. Or maybe you're just buttoned up too tight. It's funny, isn't it? So far as I can tell, we're genetically identical yet we're very different people. When it comes to the nature versus nurture argument, nurture has to have played a big part in those differences. The biggest one I can see in our upbringing is that my Melissa died when I was a child. That altered the whole family dynamic in a thousand ways, some obvious and some not so obvious. I didn't have Melissa and so ended up as me, while you did and ended up as you. As a doctor and a student of psychology I find that fascinating, and I'm sure you do too."

There was more after this, including a detailed description of what she had got up to with Detective Reece. When the tape was done, Scully called Mulder back in.

"So you were OK with her possessing my body until she got to my apartment," she said, "but why? You could have recorded the video anywhere, so it can't just have been about that."

"No, it wasn't. It was about the photos."

"Photos?"

"Your photos, Scully, the ones you have of Melissa. She wanted to see how her sister would have looked had she lived."

"Oh, well then, OK. Do you think we've seen the last of her, Mulder?"

"I don't know, I truly don't. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"""""

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION,  
WASHINGTON DC.

It was a small, non-descript door in the rear of an unremarkable shopping mall, yet anyone attempting to break through it would have found the task beyond them. Despite its outward appearance the door and the room beyond it were impenetrable, and only one man knew how to gain access to it. He did so now, pressing his thumb to a section of wall that concealed an invisible fingerprint reader, hidden sensors scanning his eyes and using other biometric measures to determine if he was that man. Once his identity had been confirmed, there was a click as the door unlocked. Entering, he took a seat before a monitor screen from which a familiar, heavily lined face stared out at him.

"You're late," it said, sounding annoyed.

"It couldn't be helped," he replied, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one."

"Those things will be the death of you," said the man on the screen."

"Perhaps, but we have more important matters to discuss. A few days ago I had an encounter with a man who recognised me and who called me 'Director', called me by your title."

"Impossible!" said the other man, a man who was his exact duplicate. "We don't have the technology to physically send anyone across. This is the only means of communicating between universes that we have."

"Nevertheless, that's what appears to have happened. When radio contact was first made between parallel universes we agreed that physical contact and the inevitable cultural contamination it would bring, was potentially extrememly dangerous and that in the event of such contact occurring those who crossed over would be killed."

"And they were. We disposed of your shuttle crew, just as you disposed of the crew of our space plane. The protocols have been followed. This man who called you 'Director', whoever he was, it has to be a coincidence."

"That's possible, of course, but you need to investigate over there. We can't ignore this."

"I agree," said a third voice.

"As do I," said a fourth.

Cancer Man sat back and smiled at the banks of screens in front of him, as more and more of those on them signalled their agreement by speaking out or by nodding.

And every one of them had his face.

The End.

Note:

The story of the encounter between Arthur Dales and the alien in Berlin in 1947 that Mulder refers to forms chapter 3 of my X-Files tale 'Day of the Storm God'.


End file.
